Ill Lit Ships
by STech
Summary: This room is just for one night but they never will let you go. Just close those hopeful eyes, and this never will let you go. Warning: Prostitution, violence, dub-con, explicit content.


"Oi! Get out of there, kid!"

The pounding came on the door as it so often did.

"Customers only!"

He ignored it.

Thin slender fingers with nails painted in onyx dragged soft gold powder across pale eyelids, pushing it up into the indent of his eyebrow. He shook off the brush, dipping it in the burnt amber colour and dusting that across the crease. He closed the palate and pulled out the gel liner, forming a perfect accentuating line and ending it in a thin but bold wing.

He had it down to a science. Feminine, pretty, but not over the top.

A quick brush with the mascara and onto the nude lipstick. He liked the soft pink colour better, but it was too easily and obviously disrupted.

He dropped the make up bag back into his satchel then retrieved his hair brush.

Another bang on the door.

"I swear to god I'm going to break this door down!"

He would have to forgo the hair clips tonight. He quickly pulled the brush through his hair, tossed a bit of mouse in and rinsed his hands.

Finally he pulled his long navy jacket around his body, covering his tights and fitted shear sweater, if it could even be called a sweater. Sweaters were meant to keep the wearer warm. This was clearly meant to attract attention.

But that was the point. It was always the point.

Two years ago, attention had been all he wanted. He loved being in the spotlight, all eyes on him. Now it made him cringe and force himself to flex his abdomen in attempt to keep the bile from rising. He'd gotten good at it.

He glanced down at his phone.

23:02. Perfect.

He unlocked the door and found himself face to face with the restaurant employee.

"What the fuck did I tell you last weekend?"

He looked around the restaurant. There wasn't a single customer in sight. Was it _really_ that big of a deal? Oh well, he'd find a new spot tomorrow night.

"I told you, give me your number and _I'll_ call _you_. I don't just give my number out to anyone."

"Sure you might not give your number out, but I bet you give something else out." He looked Toru up and down with a disgusted expression.

"Sorry, also out of your price range."

"You fucking fairy, look at you in your fucking faggot make up. Don't even talk to me like you're smarter than me. I will beat the shit out of you!"

Toru rolled his eyes. He'd heard that line too many times to count. He knew when to be afraid and when to laugh. "We aren't all blessed with the skills of a sandwich artist. Have a wonderful evening, sandwich-chan!"

"I hope you get herpes and die tonight, faggot!" The boy called after him.

He snickered to himself and kept walking.

He approached his destination, and despite the cold, he folded up his jacket and pulled the plastic bag from the front pocket of his satchel. There was a club on the side of the block that stayed open until dawn, and as long as it was open, people generally stayed away from dumpster behind it. It was the perfect place to stash his stuff. He gently placed the jacket in his bag, then wrapped the entire thing in the plastic before hiding it behind the bin.

He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself, and proceeded out into the street.

The place was alive. People littered the streets, drunk out of their minds stumbling around and shouting about. There were a few cars, but not many. The music coming from the club was loud and a line poured out the front door. It was a brisk night, but he seemed to be the only one who took notice.

He kept walking. This was not the place.

As he walked, the people became less dense and more intoxicated, though people now appeared more often high than drunk.

"Jade, hey!" His street name.

He glanced over his shoulder, spotting a friend of his.

Yamaguchi looked adorable in his pink miniskirt and red-framed glasses with his hair pulled back by pins. His make up was on point, as always. He was tiny and cute and freckled and catered to a very specific audience. Toru wished he could pull off that look, but he didn't have the body for it like Yamaguchi did. It worked out though, because they would never have to worry about interfering with each other's clients.

"Hey! How's the night?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Still a bit loud."

"Damn. Don't people know when to quit?"

"Apparently not. Full moon. You can decide whether that's good or bad," Yamaguchi said with a smile.

"Fair point. Hit me later eh?"

"Sure will! Have a good night!"

They went their separate ways, Toru heading farther into the darkness.

"Heyy sweetheart," the voice came from his left. The road.

"Looking for a date?" Toru asked, flashing his radiant smile before he even made eye contact.

"Ew fuck no! Not with some gender-confused fuck boy! I thought you were a woman!"

"Wrong side of town, hun. You want Main and 14th. That way," Toru said, not missing a beat and pointing down the road in the opposite direction the car was pointed.

"Go to hell!" The man said, pulling an aggressive 360 turn.

"See you there," he whispered quietly.

He took a deep breath. He had a thick skin, but tonight was wearing on him already. He steeled himself and kept on walking, gently massaging his temples.

He paced the streets. The crowds were thinning, but so were the cars. It was always the worst when partiers stayed out too late and the tricks felt embarrassed picking up prostitutes because there were too many people around. Often they'd give up and while it saved Toru his dignity, it did nothing for his wallet which was really what was important. After all, he'd sacrificed that self-respect long ago.

"Hey darling."

Toru nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd been watching the road, but this one came from the alley behind him.

"Wh-what can I do you for?" He asked, trying to hide the fact that adrenaline was surging through him. He hated sounding intimidated; it made the tricks feel more in control than they needed to.

"You look young."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Toru said, attempting to regain his confidence. "So can I help you?"

"Limits?" The man asked, leaning casually against the wall.

Toru looked him up and down out of his peripherals. He wasn't well dressed, but he wasn't scummy either. His clothes were casual, his jeans had a hole in the knee and the top two buttons of his flannel were undone revealing a white wife beater, but his clothing was clean and his face was shaved. He decided he looked safe enough.

"No barebacking."

"Anything else?"

"Well I'm not doing it in the alley…"

The man chuckled, the wrinkles around his eyes revealing that he was probably older than Toru had originally suspected. Not that it mattered.

"This isn't your first time, is it boy?"

He contemplated lying. He'd done it before when he thought it was to his benefit. The guy had ended up trying to rip him off in the end.

He shrugged. "You said it yourself. I look young. Take it or leave it."

He didn't want to sound as desperate as he was. Desperation usually resulted in a smaller pay out, so he remained standoffish.

"Alright, meet me at the hotel at the end of the block. Room 204. Give me twenty."

The man handed him a hotel room key, completely catching him off guard. He took it, looking up into the man's face and immediately regretting how vulnerable he must look.

"I've been watching you pace around," he said with a horrible grin on his face. "Knew I had to have you. Name's Johnny, by the way."

Toru was at a loss for words. He grinned and batted his eyes, his perfected protection.

"See you soon," the man said.

He nodded, then turned away.

* * *

Twenty minutes later found him uncharacteristically nervous riding the elevator up to the second floor. He could have taken the stairs, but somehow he felt this would take longer, delaying the inevitable.

 _Just a couple of hours, maybe less,_ he told himself. He could do this. He'd done it so many times. This was what he was good at. He'd never been a natural, but he'd perfected the skill.

He took a deep breath, raising his hand to knock at the door when it opened. The man from earlier was standing there in a pair of track pants and nothing else. He was already clearly ready, making Toru wonder if he'd taken some kind of pill. That was typically the reason men asked for extra time.

He wasn't there to judge. And generally he would help his tricks through it. After all, the better time the man had, the better he typically paid.

"Come on in," he said, his voice much softer than before.

"Alright, on the bed, boy. And just to confirm, your only limit was bare backing, correct?"

"Uh, yeah," Toru said, immediately wondering if he should have added something to that. "I'd also prefer if you didn't leave marks where I can't hide them."

"Of course," he replied, sounding surprisingly professional. "Clothes off. All of them." Professionalism gone.

Toru did as he was told. He began with his shirt, performing a perfectly staged routine, elongating his torso, stretching each arm elegantly over his head.

"Pick up the pace, I don't have all day." His tone was growing aggressive. It only added to Toru's gut feeling. He quickly removed the rest of his clothes and returned to the bed.

"I said all of them, the fuck is that?" He asked, pointing to Toru's knee brace.

 _That is the reason I'm here fucking you._

He slid the brace off and tossed it onto his pile of clothing. He felt heat return to the aggravated joint and knew he'd regret it later, especially if he was expected to perform any kind of acrobatics.

"On your back, hands over your head," the man said, now pulling a duffel bag out from under the bed. Toru forced his eyes to remain neutral as he retrieved a length of rope, climbed on top of him and began tying each of his wrists to the frame of the bed.

"Too tight," he whined and the sinewy cords constricted the blood flow to his hands. He wondered if he'd intentionally chosen a material that would cut worst into his skin.

"Stop whining, whore," he said forcefully, slapping Toru across the face.

Toru bit his tongue as his left wrist was tied in the same manner as his right, but couldn't stop a small cry from escaping his lips.

Once his arms were tied far too tightly to the bed, the man pulled out a thick blindfold and covered his eyes.

Toru had to take subtly deep breath in attempt to recompose himself. He _hated_ being tied up. He'd been here before, a handful of times when tricks that got off on power and roped him into a similar situation, but it never got anymore comfortable. He tried to tell himself it was easy, because he didn't have to _do_ anything, but at the same time it was terrifying. He was a naturally anxious person, and not only had he lost his ability to move and defend himself, he'd now lost his vision as well.

He needed to get his head in the game. He did _not_ get off on this, and he knew too well that with these types of tricks, if you didn't get off, it wasn't going to end well. They wanted to feel like they had power over you, and if you couldn't even get hard, you weren't doing your job.

Despite the fact that his job was just to lie there and take whatever the offending man had to throw at him, he found these to be the hardest jobs of all.

"Open up, slut," he said, and before Toru could even register what he'd said, the man's dick was rammed down his throat.

He nearly choked, but he quickly got himself under control. This was his element. He could do this.

"No teeth! Bitch! Don't make me gag you," he said. His voice was calm but very assertive. It sent shivers down his spine, and not in a good way.

He worked his mouth into a better position, forcing himself into a different headspace. He imagined it was someone he actually loved, not that he knew that feeling. He wanted to make them feel good. He regretted the loss of his hands, feeling like he could do a much better job with them. Not to mention the fact that he had no control over this guy's damn rhythm, but he could make it work. He worked his tongue expertly, deep throating as he went and eliciting a moan from the man above him.

 _There we go,_ he thought to himself.

He continued, attempting to match the man's pace, despite how erratic and unorganized it was. He wished he could tell him to slow down and let him carry the deed, but he was effectively deprived of his voice right now.

The man wasn't large, which helped Toru work his tongue around the offending object in his mouth, and it wasn't long before the man's mask of dominance was falling away and he was crying out, the awful tasting seed hitting the back of Toru's throat. That was the other problem about them being small; he couldn't just swallow, he had to taste it first. What the fuck was this guy eating?

"Ahh! Much better, slut!" The man said, removing himself from Toru's mouth. "What the fuck! Why are you not hard?" He then demanded.

 _Because I take no pleasure in being tied up and mouth raped._ There was no way he could say that out loud. But he knew what the guy wanted.

"Touch me," he said softly. "Please."

 **Slap**

"Why should I? You fucking slut?"

 _Come on come on come on, get hard,_ He thought to himself. He forced himself to imagine a faceless lover, passionately caressing his body, hands running through his hairline and down the back of his neck.

This was his routine. It always worked, and yet he was kicking himself for waiting too long.

"Ahh, there you go. So you get off on being slapped!"

Another forceful blow to his face.

 _Shit_

He felt a lump growing at the back of his throat. That one hurt.

"Please touch me," he said again, the tears threatening his eyes adding the perfect whine to his voice. He forced his lips into a needy pout. He could at least play it to his advantage, and he suddenly felt a little grateful for the blindfold covering his eyes. He mentally kicked himself. He never got this caught up. He could handle the pain. What the hell was wrong with him tonight?

Suddenly something hard, probably a knee, found its way into his gut and he cried out loudly, clenching his fists and tugging at his bonds.

"You like that? Fucker?"

He attempted to curl in on himself, but the man grabbed his legs.

"Don't make me tie your legs down too," he growled as a beefy hand roughly began to fondle Toru's manhood.

 _Inside your head, turn it all off. Feel nothing but the physical_ , he demanded of himself. He forced himself to feel the pain in his abdomen, locking out further feelings. There was no emotional attachment here. There never was, and there never would be.

He forced himself to moan in response to the touch.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you, you pretty little slut!"

The hand was withdrawn, and he his heightened sense could hear the man pleasuring himself, grunting in response.

"Aw yeah! Open up, bitch!" And his mouth was assaulted once more. Oddly enough, it took even less time, and he pulled out just in time to squirt all over Toru's face and chest.

It was a familiar feeling, and tricks usually got off on dirtying him. This he could handle. It was just water coming down from a showerhead. He swallowed what he could quickly, getting it out of his mouth and making himself appear desperate. Again, this was something they liked.

He moaned again, forcing his back to arch up off the bed.

"Look at you, desperate for my cock," he said, his breathing ragged from his last orgasm.

"Please," he begged, making his voice tremble.

"Say my name, slut."

He blanked for a second, covering it up with a moan. "Johnny," he finally said, breathlessly.

"What? What do you want?" He growled.

"Fuck me," he said quietly, sounding as needy as possible.

"Beg for it!" The man punched him in the abdomen again.

"Please!" He could feel the bile rising in his bruised stomach.

"Please what?!" He boomed, slapping him hard across the face.

"PLEASE FUCK ME," Tour cried, again arching his back off the bed.

"Aw yeah!" The man wailed, roughly flipping Toru over so his arms pulled against the rope, making him feel like his hands would either be ripped off or his arms ripped from their sockets. His wrists burned against the rope and his fists tingled. He could no longer tighten them due to lack of bloodflow.

Thankfully, he heard the sound of a condom wrapper ripping. That was the other awful thing about being tied up. If the trick didn't put a condom on, he couldn't stop them. It had happened once before, and he couldn't bring himself to work for a week after that. When he'd gone back, he'd set bondage as a limit, but he'd been rejected by several jobs after that. As soon as you put limits on them, they figured you would have other boundaries and they tended not to like that.

The man didn't prep him at all, forcefully ramming himself into Toru from behind. He cried out against the pain, but forced himself to turn his mind off. Johnny's hands dug into his hips, ramming him hard, headfirst into his crossed arms, Toru having no way to steady himself against the assault. He turned his head so his nose wouldn't slam against his arms, shocked that the activity hadn't jarred his blindfold in the slightest.

"Don't you dare finish before me!" He demanded, his breathing ragged.

He grasped Toru's cock, jerking him almost painfully hard as he continued slamming into his body from behind. He cried out in pain, hoping it would come across as pleasure as it so often did, and the man's shouts escalated, Toru knowing he was close.

"Yeah slut! Cum!" And Toru did, forcing the pleasureless orgasm from his body, his newly perfected, prized skill.

"Ah," Johnny panted behind him, catching his breath.

He felt the man climb off the bed wordlessly, then heard the bathroom door close. Of course he'd leave him there, soiled, likely bleeding, filthy. They always cleaned themselves up before tending to him. It was like a law among them, he was sure of it. He curled his legs up beside him, feeling the ache in his stomach as well as his behind. Fuck it hurt. Everything hurt. It always hit him so fast once he was finished. He felt the lump in his throat again, the tears threatening, but he swallowed back down against it. He refused to have tears in his eyes when the man removed his blindfold.

Several minutes later, he heard the bathroom door open once more. He quickly straightened his legs, waiting for the man to untie him.

"Well, you weren't very much fun," the man said, as Toru felt something light hit his body.

Money.

"Think I'll go see what your little friend in the pink skirt is up to. Find out if he enjoys getting the shit beaten out of him as much as you do." The man laughed, and Toru felt his entire body tense.

Before he could say a word, the door slammed shut.

 _Shit!_

* * *

He would never know exactly how he'd managed to get his hands untied, but he would be reminded for several days that it had happened by the bloody wounds. His right hand was far worse, his wrist rubbed completely raw, as well as the back of his hands and his entire thumb, the tendon on the outside barely functional.

What mattered was that he'd managed to get to his phone, and that Yamaguchi was safe.

"Hey Toru, what's up?"

That was his first indication. They never used their real names on the streets.

"Where are you?"

"I'm almost home. I just stopped to grab something to eat."

"Thank fucking god," Toru mumbled through a huge sigh of relief. Yamaguchi was younger, less experienced, and if at all possible, more pure. He set limits and he hated when tricks hurt him. He knew that this guy would have ruined him.

"What happened? Are you ok?"

"I just had a rough job. He saw me talking to you earlier and wasn't happy with me so he said he was going after you next. If a man in a flannel shirt approaches you, run."

"What the hell happened? Seriously are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he said, feeling exhausted now that the adrenaline was draining from his system. His stomach ached, and his wrists burned. Badly. "Um, can I come over?"

"Yeah of course. Where are you? Do you want me to come meet you?"

"No! Please stay away from this area. I'll be there soon."

"Toru, seriously! You sound awful."

"I'm fine. Just get inside please."

"Ok…" Yamaguchi said, sounding uncertain.

"See you soon. Stay safe."

"You too."

Toru hung up the phone, taking a deep breath and fighting the urge to collapse back against the bed.

Body protesting and aching, he dragged himself to the bathroom, feeling unsteady and nauseous. He really didn't want to look himself in the face right now. He just wanted to take a long bath and fall asleep.

But Johnny still had the key to this place, and he wondered if he'd return after finding that Yamaguchi had disappeared from the streets. His heart ached for whomever the man picked up next.

He avoided the mirror. He didn't want to see his face, see how badly his make up was ruined from the blindfold. He'd managed not to cry, but he could feel it building now. It had been such an emotional night.

He focused on his perfectly painted fingernails, the only part of him that still felt put together and therefore whole. He watched them tremble as he soaked a towel with hot water and soap, the water burning the cuts on his hands and wrists as he went. He could hardly use his right hand because it was so torn up and painful, but he managed to wipe his chest and face clean, removing his ruined make up that he'd worked so hard to perfect. He wished he had something with him, even foundation to hide behind. A naked face made him feel so vulnerable, not to mention ugly. As long as he could cover himself and hide behind the beauty that was make up, he felt like he could hide what he was.

But not right now. Right now he was ugly and disgusting and he didn't even have time to properly clean up.

The bile rose again, and this time he couldn't stop it.

He had nothing in his stomach, having not eaten at all that day. Somehow, the pink acid still managed to sacrifice itself and expel itself from his body. He coughed, doubling over in pain and spitting out what he could into the toilet. Once his body had ejected all it could, he dry heaved, crying out against the pain. Now he had tears in his eyes. The taste was awful, and he could see white chunks of cum in the contents as he quickly flushed the toilet and shut his eyes tight against the pain, the sight, the disgust.

He was disgusting.

Repulsive

Revolting

Worthless.

The tears came.

* * *

It took longer than he would have liked, but he got himself off the bathroom floor. He tossed his used towels into the bathtub, wrapping another one around his right hand. It was still bleeding, and he couldn't sacrifice the sweater he'd worn.

Back in the room, he pulled his knee brace back on, trying to ignore the ache in his heart as it reminded him each time _why_ he was in this position.

He'd been a star. He'd played for the Japanese National team. He'd been on the Olympic roster. Then everything had come crashing down. One bad fall had ruined his life. Or so he told himself. He knew that in reality it had been years of overuse leading up to it, but regardless, it was all over.

It wasn't repairable. There was nothing they could do to fix him. Even a 5% chance of success and he would have had the surgeries. As many as it took. But there was no chance. It was over. Done. A distant dream.

The tears remained in his eyes as he pulled his pants on, then carefully pulled his shirt over his body, the compression of the sleeve holding the towel against his bloody wrist. Black socks and brown loafers followed.

A deep breath, and he stood up and collected the cash. $100. Less than he'd expected, especially after that kind of treatment.

What could he do? Even if they had worked out a price there was nothing holding the man to it. The asshole had left him tied to the bed, after all.

He folded the bills up and shoved them into his sock. He then stripped the linens and tossed them in the bathtub as well. He was certain the hotel staff had to put up with enough in this area of town.

He glanced around the room purely on instinct, since he had nothing to forget. Finally he turned the light off and let himself out.

* * *

The walk back to the dumpster was cold. He'd kept the towel he'd used to wrap around his hand, hoping the asshole's credit card would be charged for it. The left side had mostly stopped bleeding, so he'd simply pulled his sleeve down. Nonetheless, it was still freezing. By the time he'd made it back to his things, he was shivering, teeth chattering and all. He threw on his jacket and headed straight for Yamaguchi's, not stopping to make eye contact with anyone.

"TORU!"

"Shhhh!" Toru hushed him, cringing in pain as Yamaguchi threw himself at him, throwing them both at the wall across from Yamaguchi's doorway.

"I'm sorry, come in," he said, moving aside to let Toru in.

He was dressed in black leggings that hugged his slender thighs and calves perfectly, ending neatly around his ankles with purple no show socks and a pink crew neck sweatshirt to match. His hair was still damp from a shower, and he wore simple make up that made him look very put together, likely more so than he felt. He must have had a good night. Yamaguchi was so precious, and it broke Toru's heart that he was in this line of work.

"What happened to you?" He asked, tilting Toru's chin up, letting the dim light from the ceiling lamp shine and highlight the bruises on his cheekbones. "Your lip is bleeding!"

"That's not all," Toru said, rolling his sleeves up to reveal the mess of wounds on his wrists.

Yamaguchi squealed, his hands jumping to his mouth as if he might scream. "What the heck happened?"

"He got rough."

"Come on," Yamaguchi said, gently taking his left hand and leading him to the small bathroom that Toru had been patched up in so many times.

Toru sat on the counter in only his tights as Yamaguchi ran a bath for him. When he climbed in, Yamaguchi washed his hair for him and gently cleaned the wounds on his arms. He'd dimmed the lights and brought a small bottle of whiskey that he'd been saving for months. They were silent, passing the bottle back and forth until Toru felt his head grow fuzzy.

"How was your night?" He finally asked.

"It was good, actually," Yamaguchi said. That was obviously code for as good as it could be in this line of work. No one did this because they enjoyed it. "Easy client, it was his first time with a man. He just wanted me to walk him through it and show him how it was done. He was pretty quick and he paid really well."

"He's lucky he found you. Some of the other guys would probably have taken advantage of him."

"Nah, I don't think so. He was a good guy."

"Think he'll be a return customer?"

"Maybe. I'd be ok with that. Made for a short night."

"Yeah, same with mine," Toru said sarcastically. For other reasons though, his night was cut short. He couldn't go back out after he'd been bloodied up so badly.

"Mm, want to tell me what happened?" Yamaguchi asked.

Normally he'd say no, but the way his friend asked was so genuinely sincere, that it made him want to share. It was strange, and only Yamaguchi could do this to him. It always helped too, getting it out like that.

"He tied me down and blindfolded me, then roughed me up during. He left me tied to the bed after, saying he was coming after you. That's how this happened," Toru said, holding up his swollen right hand.

"That looks really bad, Toru," Yamaguchi said, taking the limb in his hands. I think I can see your tendon!"

"Yeah, it doesn't feel good. It wasn't one of those situations where I could just stay there and wait for the hotel staff to find me though. Also who knew if he'd come back?"

"Have you done that before? Waited for hotel staff to find you?"

"No," Toru said. "They've always cut me loose after."

"You need to start setting limits."

"We aren't all as pretty as you, Yama," Toru said, feeling his face form a smile he didn't think would be possible at this point.

"Be quiet, you're gorgeous," Yamaguchi said. "Ready to get out?"

"Yeah," he said, wincing as he flexed his abdomen to sit up.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, just sore."

"Hang on, let me get you a towel."

Toru pulled the plug from the tub and stood, waiting for Yamaguchi to return. When he did, the smaller boy held the towel out and Toru found it was warm when he stepped into it.

He smiled at his friend, "thanks."

"My mom used to leave the towel on the heater for me when I was little," Yamaguchi smiled.

The smile on Yamaguchi's face was so innocent and pure that Toru almost began to cry again. This boy deserved to be protected. He wished he could do something for him.

"Do you want pjs or tights?"

"Pajamas, please," Toru said, carefully bending over to dry himself.

Once he was dry and dressed, Yamaguchi bandaged his wrists and lead him to his bedroom where he had a pot of tea, two cups and a package of milk bread on his night table. His makeup bag was there as well.

"You're wonderful," Toru said.

"I want you to be ok," Yamaguchi said. "And you've taken care of me too many times to count. I would never have been successful in this business without you."

"I will be. Thank to you," he said, wrapping his arms around Yamaguchi. He wasn't sure if it was true or not.

"Can I braid your hair?"

"Yes please," Toru said. He loved when Yamaguchi did his hair. He always felt so much prettier afterwards. "And maybe my make up, too?"

"Really? But you're so much better at that than me!"

"Am not!" Toru protested.

"I think you are. But if that's what you want, then of course."

They spent the better part of an hour making Toru feel pretty again while drinking green tea. When they finally grew tired, they curled up in Yamaguchi's bed and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Perhaps he would be ok after all.

* * *

 **A/N: If you made it through, thank you.**

 **This story is based off the song Ill lit ships by Blaqk Audio. I highly recommend listening to it or at least giving the lyrics a read!**

 **I haven't posted anything on this site in SO long and I missed it. If anyone is still out there reading... let me know and maybe I'll post some others I've been working on.**


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